


six feet under

by dreamtowns



Series: the many hearts of an oracle [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roleswap, Chosen King Lunafreya Nox Fleruet, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Light Language, Oracle Noctis Lucis Caelum, Roleswap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: Her voice failed her, and she looked back down at her phone, feeling as helpless and small as she did when the Empire crashed through Tenebrae the first time, beings of steel and blood and rage that soaked the very air. She had been barely eight.There were no signs of the Oracle. Of Noctis.Luna expressed a desire, for the first time in all her twenty years, for a cigarette.





	six feet under

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!

When Luna heard the first counts of Tenebrae, in flames, in chaos, she had just finished an impromptu diplomacy lesson from Ignis when Gladio ambled in. His grave expression made her heart stutter in her throat, and she half-rose from her seat when he spoke:

“Somethings’ up in Tenebrae.”

Her fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone. Social media updates burst forth as she tapped on her Twitter app. _#TenebraeBurningAgain_, _#AnotherInvasion_, _#SaveTenebrae _were the top trends, and that alone was enough to make the floor sway beneath her feet. She didn’t fall, however; she didn’t choke on her swallowed tears.

Ignis and Gladio eyed her carefully, ever cognizant of the swell in her emotions, as she scrolled through her feed. They’d have to make a statement soon; of support, of strength, of hope. Although Ravus disdained her teasing’s of him being an old soul poet, he truly had a way with words.

“Perhaps, you should—,” Ignis started, but Luna’s sharp intake of breath made him pause. “Lunafreya? Your Highness?”

Gladio crossed the room quickly. “Princess—.”

But Luna wasn’t listening. Her fingers quickened as she scrolled through her feed, updated the page, and begun the process anew. Throughout the cacophony, the panic, and the confusion of homes and government buildings burning, of discovering another noble (_Imperial noble_) dead in their beds, in their gardens (—_one is struck down in a market)_, a general consensus rose to the forefront.

Her breath stuttered. Her grip on her phone nearly became painful as Gladio rested a hand on her shoulder, as Ignis tried to pry her phone out of her hands, as Ravus entered the room with a troubled gaze.

She looked up at them and didn’t bother masking her fear, her rage, her grief. “There are no . . .,” she started and then stopped. She tried to swallow, but her dry, throbbing throat made it difficult. “It seems that . . ..”

Her voice failed her, and she looked back down at her phone, feeling as helpless and small as she did when the Empire crashed through Tenebrae the first time, beings of steel and blood and rage that soaked the very air. She had been barely eight.

_There were no signs of the Oracle. Of Noctis. _

Luna expressed a desire, for the first time in all her twenty years, for a cigarette.

* * *

The Oracle of Tenebrae, Youngest of His Ascension, was barely fifteen when he gained the title. Living a decade beneath the Empire’s heady gaze, he remained the cheerful, positive child (as positive as anyone could be when being reared by the people who murdered his family and most of his staff) he was when he healed Luna under his fathers’ gentle teaching.

And now, he was missing.

Luna didn’t know what to do, what to think. A steady stream of Tenebraen refugees passed through the Gates, seeking sanctuary and safety behind the Lucian Wall. Luna and Ravus welcomed them all with warm smiles, and Luna spent her weekends by the camps to see where she could help, desperate to keep her mind off the Oracle that remained elusive to everyone.

Reports of what happened feed social media slowly. There were many conflicting reports—mainly what was deemed _official _and what was first-hand accounts—but they all had a tight grasp on a consensus: a rebellion took place, dismantled Imperial control over the country, and through the chaos, the Oracle disappeared.

They knew Noctis hadn’t died—there would’ve been quite the backlash from the other Astrals, especially _Shiva_, who was notoriously fond of the youngest Oracle—but there had been no sightings, no whispers. Nothing.

It’s as if Noctis had become a ghost overnight.

“I had no idea you were so—fond, of the Oracle,” said Ignis, in the following weeks of the incident.

“Noctis is – he is like my younger brother,” Luna explained, as best as she could. “One I cannot help but want to protect and shield from the world, from all that he’s seen and suffered through.”

Ignis dipped his head into a nod, and then patted her hand. “We’ll find him, Highness.”

Luna couldn’t help but smile.

Ravus dispatched a loyal, ruthless group of Glaives to do a search and rescue. Glaives Ulric, Khara, and Altius were very efficient in their missions, and Luna had no doubt that the trio wouldn’t rest until the Oracle was safe in Lucian hands.

A month crawled by, a tortuous, desperate month that had Luna attached to her phone for updates, for a message. She’d use Umbra, as they passed a notebook back and forth as technology was notoriously tapped and at-risk in Imperial controlled territories, but the Messenger stubbornly rebuffed all her attempts at sending a message.

Luna was about to rip her hair out in frustration. She’d almost conspired a plan to sneak away from the Citadel and go find Noctis herself, consequences be _damned_.

But as the eve of Noctis’ Ascension trudged forth, a hidden passageway few use opened up. Luna had been in the room with Ignis, Gladio, Ravus, and a few trusted Glaives as they discussed a few upcoming proposals and bills the Council wanted to discuss at the next meeting. When rumbling stone caught their attention, they all leaped to their feet.

Glaives trained their weapons on the darkened path as cold wisps of air blast through the room. Luna shivered in place. It felt as if Shiva had graced them with an early winter.

“Who’s there?” called Ravus, a hand on the hilt of his blade.

No one spoke. They only heard the shuffling noise of someone walking closer. Luna tightened her grip on her own sword, ready to defend and protect both her family and her kingdom. _Though_, she thought, _how odd that they invade through a passagew—_

And then:

“By the gods,” someone—_Luna knew that voice; everyone knew that voice_—coughed and sputtered. “Where are we? Prompto, are we lost again? I swear, if you led me to another thrice-damned Chocobo _outpost, I_—.”

“Your Majesty?”

Noctis’ rant ceased, and, after a hesitant pause, a familiar head poked out from the corner. A smudge of soot, dirt, and possibly dried blood marked his face. Relief flooded Luna to a point where she nearly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find her voice.

“Oh,” said Noctis, blinking. “Um. Hi. Hello.”

Gladio, despite the tension, snorted. Oracle or not, King (_Boy-King_, many liked to say) or not, Noctis Lucis Caelum was still a very awkward, very quiet sixteen-year-old. Ignis hid his smile behind a gloved hand. Luna still couldn’t find her voice.

Ravus pinched the bridge of his nose, but they were all aware of his relief.

“Your _Majesty_,” he began, a rumbling Disappointed Big Brother voice that Luna was unfortunately very acquainted with, and Noctis squeaked. He would’ve ducked back inside the passageway, but a Glaive had a steadied grip on his elbow. “Where have you been? Do you know how long you’ve been missing f—?” Ravus stopped and narrowed his eyes, peering over Noctis’ state of image. “Are you injured, Your Majesty?”

Noctis grimaced. “Gods, Ravus, just call me _Noctis_.”

“Answer the question,” Ravus said, face setting into a ruthless sort of gentle. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Noctis replied, but the way he winced when he breathed said a wholly different story.

Luna rediscovered her voice then. “Noctis, please, you need medical attention—,” but Noctis shook his head.

“It’s too much of a risk,” he replied, quietly, and sounded, despite the fact that he looked as if he’d spent the last few weeks crawling through the sewage system, like the Oracle, the King, that he was by blood. “I know, I _know _that Insomnia has an exceptional security system, but . . ..”

Ravus raised his palm with a nod. “I understand the risks, Your—Noctis. But at least, let us look over you with a private healer.”

Noctis’ lips thinned, but, after a pause, agreed.

Ravus instructed one of the Glaives to get one of the Citadel doctors before he set about making sure Noctis was comfortable. Perhaps, in another life, Ravus would despise Noctis for being a reason his home burned to the ground, and his mothers’ life bled in front of him—but this was not that life, and there were no negative emotions that festered between the two royals.

If anything, Ravus’ protective behavior grew in Noctis’ presence, always cognizant of the fact that Noctis had absolutely no one at his side besides two Messenger dogs and a mysterious boy named Prompto who came and went at his own pleasure.

Speaking of.

Prompto appeared in the room, dressed in the ceremonial robes of a Messenger, just as singed and as dirty as Noctis, and smiled.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for providing us sanctuary,” the Messenger said, voice as tinkling and as soft as Gentiana’s.

Ravus tilted his head in a nod. “It is of no consequence to me.”

Noctis huffed and reached for one of the couches throw pillows. “_Ugh_—stop sounding so noble. Listen, don’t get sucked into his Messenger façade, he nearly passed out from excitement when we went to Wiz’s Chocobo Post.”

The Messenger in question rolled his eyes. “If I recall, _you _almost got into a fight with some fish back by the Forgotten Fishing P—.”

Prompto squawked when the pillow hit him in the face. Ravus stared at the two teens (at least, everyone _assumed _Prompto was the Messenger-equivalent of ‘teen’) with a long-suffering expression. Just like that, tension bled from the room and they laughed.

Luna knew, then and there, that they would be alright. No matter what happened from now.

**Author's Note:**

> btw noctis and prompto totally said “fuck it” and started a rebellion


End file.
